


Implacable Heart

by Pouncer



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Sex, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-25
Updated: 2003-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pouncer/pseuds/Pouncer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley thought Faith was a nymph the first time he saw her, a spirit of concrete and leather instead of woodland or stream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Implacable Heart

Wesley thought Faith was a nymph the first time he saw her, a spirit of concrete and leather instead of woodland or stream. Wildness ruled her, and his job was to tame her. He thought he could transform her into Atalanta, throw golden apples in her path to make her obey her Watcher masters. He failed. She ran after the Mayoral maggot inside the apples instead and then tried to destroy them all. Faith spent a year in a coma and Wesley lost everything.

The second time he saw her he thought she was a Maenad, one of the wild ones who followed Dionysus in ritualized ecstasy. They tore Orpheus to pieces using their bare hands, but Faith needed an edge to slice him apart. Drops of his blood made her a Fury -- Alecto or Tisiphone or Megaera he never could tell -- rage incarnate to punish him for his misdeeds. The Erinnyes hound him still in his dreams, cutting into his skin with shards of glass as he tries desperately to escape.

The third time he saw her he didn't know if she was Athena, goddess of war, or one of the Eumenides, a Fury transformed into a protector of the needy. No hesitation as she dove through the prison glass, no flinch as she gave up her quest for redemption in the face of a greater need. She must reclaim Angel's soul or all was lost. His champion trapped in the ether, his demon self on a rampage more destructive than when Heracles murdered his wife and children, while the Beast roamed the city streets.

Since he'd last seen her, Wesley had grown from the cowardly scribe, Angel's helper, into a dark hunter of his own. When he reflected upon his deeds, he felt like the king of Corinth who'd left Oedipus to die based on the words of the Oracle of Delphi. But he'd been the one to discover the prophesy. And then he had taken the burden of changing the future into his own hands, with results more disastrous than could be imagined. He'd destroyed his life, sundered his friendships, and descended into his own darkness. Faith might believe herself the baddest of the bad, but he finally had the experience to meet her darkness.

Still, after she'd faced Angelus and the Beast he felt the need to nurture his Slayer, to bind her wounds. Watcher training was bred into his bones. She might not have struck the killing blow, but the Beast was vanquished and the sun had returned. Her arms felt delicate under his palms as he examined her bloody back in his apartment. She wouldn't let any vulnerability show as she refused his aid and asked about a shower with glib words about being sticky. Moments later he heard tiles breaking, shrieks of rage and frustration echoing from behind the closed door. Silence fell and Wesley waited until he heard the water shut off.

"Faith, are you all right?" The silence behind the door lengthened until he had to knock. "Faith!" he demanded. The door cracked open to reveal her slim form wrapped in a white towel. Shattered tiles and plaster dust inside the shower stall bore witness to her outburst.

Faith's wet hair straggled in her eyes as she said, "I was a little angry." She was trying to be nonchalant, but the ashes of defeat dulled her usual glow.

"I can see that." He reached out to touch the livid graze on her temple. "That must smart." He slid his hand down the side of her face, pushing her hair behind her ear. His fingers played at the soft spot where chin met neck. His gaze was very steady on her face. Her breath hitched and her eyes widened.

"Wesley, you sure you want to go there?"

"Do you?" he shot back, remembering the appreciative comment when she first saw him again in prison. Her sexual drive had always been prodigious in Sunnydale, never more so than after a fight. He moved his hands to the back of her neck, pivoted her to the bed. He said, "Why don't we go here," pushing here back onto the covers. He knew he'd be thwacked across the room if she didn't want this.

She pulled him down on top of her. He caught his weight, careful of her ribs, legs straddling her body. The white terry made her look pale, but he wanted her flushed with desire. Some of her wounds were still seeping, crimson stains dotting the towel. He leaned down, drawing his tongue across the torn flesh on her mouth. He licked at her pouty lower lip, took it between his teeth to nibble before settling in to possess her mouth. Her lips were sweet, lush and soft under his own. The kiss went on and on, a duel of tongues and lips and teeth that had both of them panting when he moved on to fresh skin. He kissed down the line of her jaw, finding that same spot beneath her ear. His nibbles made her gasp and buck beneath him. The flesh there was tender and sensitive, and she arched under him to press more firmly into his body.

Her hands reached for his shoulder, pulling him closer, grinding up into his erection. "Wesley, come on. What are you . . ." her hoarse voice broke off as he sat up to unwrap the towel concealing her from his sight. A purple bruise marred her ribs and she stayed very still when his fingers brushed it.

"You're so lovely, Faith. Give me time to explore you properly."

He knew she wanted him to go fast, because fast was familiar. He needed to go slow, to immerse her in pleasure so she could forget her near-defeat. She would arise stronger and focused and capable of defeating Angelus. Not like . . .

He traced whisper soft patterns on her chest, sigils of protection etched through the alchemy of touch. Her nipples stood taut, calling for his mouth. He took one in with his teeth, biting and tugging with his lips. He suckled strongly, liking her moans. Her side was sensitive to the lightest touch, and she gasped and rolled underneath him. He was riveted by the shivers shaking the arch of her waist. A thin sheen of sweat covered them both now.

She rolled back to grab him, kissed him hard and slipped her hands underneath his shirt. "It doesn't seem fair," she muttered as she stripped him. He let her have her way, reveling in the slide of skin against skin. He moved to touch her legs, deft hands finding the spots that made her shiver. Back of the knee, arch of the foot, line of the pelvis: wherever he found them he wrote his marks over and over with a steady, almost tickling, touch. Faith trembled and jerked, rolling over on her stomach to escape. He took advantage of the new territory offered, moving up her back. Oh, she loved having the backs of her thighs stroked and bitten. The wounds on her back had to be avoided, but he learned that his fingers tickling her shoulder blades made her muscles jerk. When he bit down where the bone came to a point, she whimpered and tried to raise herself up on arms that couldn't support her. He grabbed her behind her elbows, running his hands up and down her arms. She collapsed back on the covers, twisting to meet his mouth again. She was desperate, needy noises flowing from her throat, her entire body undulating against him. Now. Now was the moment to push her leg up, reach between her thighs and touch her wetness.

She keened, pushing into his fingers, sobbing when his cock began to penetrate her. She was so tight -- he thrust slowly until he was completely inside her, shuddering at the feel of her heat surrounding him. He had to be careful not to put too much weight on her injured ribs, so he anchored his right hand at her opposite breast and writhed closer to her back. He couldn't stand any separation between them now, not as he began moving in and out with steady force. His mouth latched onto the skin of her throat, suckling and tonguing and kissing her frantically. She was grinding back against him, desperate to reach completion. Words were being muttered under her breath, like she didn't have conscious control of her voice anymore. "Harder. There. There. God. Yes. More." She was squeezing him over and over again, tighter than any woman he'd ever had. His thrusts began to quicken until he was ramming into her while she screamed her pleasure. He felt her shudder and come apart in his arms, then he lost control completely.

When his senses returned, she was still limp beneath him. He withdrew from her body, earning a moan. He turned her into his arms, stroking softly up and down her back. She shivered and moved her hand to rub at his chest.

"Wesley. Wow. Who the hell taught you that?"

He froze for a minute, remembering the bloody wounds at her neck, the plastic sheeting, and the axe. "Angelus killed her."

Faith reared up to look at his face. "Oh god, Wes, I'm sorry." He just shook his head. She leaned down to kiss him again, soft and slow. "I'm sorry."

"We have to get Angel back, Faith. We have to."

"I know." She was looking at his chest now, a little half-smile quirking her lips as she petted him. Then she saw the scars, the ones etched in glass in a stolen apartment, and guilt and shame slid like watercolors over her face. He pulled her down into another kiss, making a note to use that guilt later if her resolve started to falter.

"We should get ready, go back to the Hyperion."

"Yeah, but I'm all sticky again." She was smirking now and he had to restrain himself from doing something about it.

"Go wash up and I'll get weapons together."

She walked towards the bathroom with her head held high and her shoulders back. Her air of defeat was gone, but he wasn't certain if she could do what was necessary to reclaim Angel. He dressed and busied himself packing up sedatives to slow Angel down.

"Squeaky clean. Let's blow." He had to stare at her for a moment to make sure she had really gone back to that insouciant air. Her cockiness had always been held as an aegis between her and the world. "Right. Uh, sorry about your bathroom. Come on, let's do it."

He stood to face her, not caring in the slightest about broken tiles. "I'm not worried about the bathroom. Although I'm fairly sure my security deposit's a complete loss. I need to know you're in the game, Faith. All the way."

"Five by five, boss."

No more golden apples. Now he'll have to hone her until she can defeat Angelus and bring Angel back to them. He'll shape her like Prometheus molded clay to make man. Pandora's Box won't be open much longer.

**Author's Note:**

> written for girlfromsouth for Yuletide 2003. My thanks to my two betas, serialkarma and kuzibah. Some dialogue taken from the episode Release, written by Steven S. DeKnight and Elizabeth Craft. The title comes from a Homeric Hymn --
> 
> I begin to sing of Pallas Athena, the glorious goddess  
> grey-eyed, resourceful, of implacable heart.
> 
> Disclaimer: Property of Joss Whedon, not me.


End file.
